


ra ra rasputin

by rottenstrawberrymilk



Category: Deadpool (Movieverse), Marvel, X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Depression, Drinking, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Foreign Language, Mental Instability, Pet Names, Showers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-16 18:34:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29580318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rottenstrawberrymilk/pseuds/rottenstrawberrymilk
Summary: piotr rasputin (colossus) x reader one shots/drabbles
Relationships: Colossus/Reader, Piotr Rasputin/Reader
Kudos: 12





	ra ra rasputin

“I do not like to see you like this, _moye serdtse_ ” he tells you, standing solemnly in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest loosely.  
  
Your hand tightens around the neck of the bottle rested in your lap. You sniff and wipe your nose on the oversized, unbutton flannel hanging loosely on your bare torso. There is no response. You wouldn’t have known what to say anyways—your brain is still in that familiar fog. It’s not enough though. You can still _think_ , you can still remember that they’re _gone_ and there’s nothing you can do about it. You suddenly lift the cloudy vodka bottle to your lips again and lean back hard against the headboard.  
  
“I do not think this is very good habit to be forming. Drink at time like this, brings nothing but more misery.”  
  
You wipe your lips as you lower the bottle, and a familiar anger brought on by the burn of alcohol on your tongue flares up.  
  
“Nobody gives a damn what you think,” you hiss back drunkenly, with the sole purpose of being venomous enough to hopefully drive him away. “‘Specially not me. _Go away_.” Your chest clenches because you don't know if you actually want him to leave. That sick, insecure, pathetic part of you wants him to fight to save you, fight to pull you out of this and stop you from drowning yourself in grief and hatred and more vodka if you could get your hands on it. This bottle was getting kinda low...  
  
Piotr sighs. He is not one to push to get his way or further instigate an already distressed person but...he knows this has gone on too far and for much too long. If there is a healthy period of grieving then you're certainly not in it and he can tell. You'd keep going until you were nothing. Although he doesn’t want to irritate you more, he steps into the room, ducking his head to get past the doorway.  
  
A long, low groan comes from you as your head thunks back against the headboard and you shut your eyes tightly. Your head is pounding again. You push the opening of the bottle to your lips, but don’t have the motivation to tilt the whole thing up quite yet. With your eyes closed and your aching head, you don't notice how quickly he sneaks up on you. He's not exactly the sneaking type either, being fucking massive and all. Maybe that might have been a testament to how far gone you were. Or maybe you just didn't fucking care.

Gently, he took the bottle from your head. It looks tiny in his fingers and you let out a frustrated groan as you fall back against the headboard of the bed again even harder. There's a bit of pain, different from the one inside your head in your heart. You smack your head against the headboard again for good measure, interested by just the feeling of something that was different from your recent norm. 

"Stop that," Piotr says softly. "You cannot ease pain if you keep causing. " 

You slurred something that might have been along the lines of "shut up". But through the numb cloud surrounding your brain, his quiet words pierce and it _hurts_ too. Your jaw clenches with frustration as hot tears begin to gather in the corners of your eyes and you fight back a sniffle. You're not gonna ugly cry. Not in front of him. 

He sets the near empty bottle aside at the end of the bed and his now free hand goes to cover the back of your head. It's just to stop you from banging it anymore, but the pressure feels nice either way. Although at first you wanted to squirm away and make things difficult for him out of spite, you can't help but melt just a little at his touch and lean into it. And that's all he needed. 

Piotr's head tilts slightly as he sits near you. "How long have you been like this?" You feel his eyes burning into you.

You open your own eyes, blurred with tears. "Since you left." Your voice comes out more hoarse than before. 

It hadn't been his fault obviously. He's an X-Men and duty calls now and then, even at the worst of times. He's a vital member of his team and you know it but that doesn't lessen the jealousy and wrath at his absences. But he _still_ could have just called off this one mission. Everyone you loved was dead but him and he had the nerve to _leave you_. 

Your brows contort with distress as you struggle to swallow properly. You sit up briskly, disgusted by his touch as quickly as you'd been comforted by it. You can't make up your fucking mind and it's killing you. To forgive him and let him take care of you and make you better, or to clam up and make him hurt like you were hurting right now. It's tempting to be toxic. You feel his hand slow and careful your back, like he's ready to take it away immediately if you even flinch. And you remember that's he's good to you. For all the other shit hands you've been dealt you have him--you always have. 

"It was big emergency. I would not have left otherwise. You know that, _da_? _Moya lyubov_ '?" 

He takes your chin between an always gentle thumb and forefinger. You realize he's waiting for a response.

With a defeated sigh, you breathe back in his mother tongue, " _da"_. But you can't help but continue to cry. "I know..." 

Piotr's fingers rub comforting circles into your back. "I hate to see you cry..." 

At his words, your chest clenches even tighter and you jerk your head from his hand. Your hands quickly go to your face, covering it as your knees draw up into your bare chest.Don't fucking cry. You realize you've got to look like hell and what's worse is he's gotten you to care about it. Bitterness fills you again as you inhale sharply and attempt to get to the other side of the bed--away from him. Piotr is quick to realize he's offended you and reaches after you. 

"Let go, you fucking asshole," you snapped back at him, voice trembling between tears and gasps. 

It is unlike him to be as forceful as he is now. Obviously it came out of a place of love and care but you weren't exactly aware of that in your drunken state. His arm is around your abdomen, trying to drag you back over and off the bed. 

He actually seems to struggle for a second to get ahold of you. " _Nyet_ ," he mutters out. "I am not going to let you continue down this path. Is dangerous." 

Your jaw sets stubbornly and your fingers dig harder into the sheets to try and keep your place. He's obviously not using all of his power out of fear of hurting you. But he also seems to be holding back to give you a chance to change your mind and go along with him. This thought only pisses you off more and the spite sets in by tenfold. You know that no matter what he's going to get you off the bed, even if you struggle, so why not just be a pain in the ass when he takes you to wherever he wants you to be?

You quickly stiffen up and a frustrated sigh comes from him as he tries to settle you comfortably into his arms. Purposefully, you keep your legs straight and out, a scowl settling on your face. 

" _(Y/N),_ " Piotr mutters a bit irritatedly when he reaches the doorway and quickly finds that it's somewhat difficult to get you through it when you're practically planking in his powerful arms. When you don't respond and your legs don't fold, he lets out another slow exhale before turning carefully to the side and squeezing through the tight doorway with you. 

Piotr came to a sudden stop in the hallway, beginning to fuss over the flannel loosely clinging to your upper body. Although it seems like you're finally running his patience thin, he still handles you with so much care and gentleness that it almost makes you want to cry. Your jaw clenches even more as you bite back those tears and he wraps the flannel tighter over you so your chest was better covered. To his relief, it seemed he was lucky enough to not have any other X-Men up and wandering around this late at night. So, you wouldn't have the embarrassment of having anyone else see you like this.

At your worst. 

You won't say it but you're relieved. The last thing you need is Wade or someone who wasn't Piotr seeing your tits right now. 

Piotr eventually brings you to one of the larger bathrooms. He shoulders open the door before leaning back against it to shut it. Still, you wouldn't speak to him or look at him as he set you down on the bathroom floor with a soft grunt. Immediately, just to be a bitch, you slouch down and sit on the floor, crossing your arms stubbornly around yourself and glaring into a nearby corner.

"(Y/N), _enough_ , you are acting like _child_ ," Piotr says, exasperated as he steps over you to start the shower. 

He stands before you once again expectantly and that familiar pettiness fills you once more. Your mouth stays in a thin line, your jaw stays clenched, and you absolutely do _not_ move. Apparently, he seems quicker to lose his patience this time. His touch is never rough on you. He'd never. You know that. But he still wraps his arms under yours and stands you back up on your feet in a much sharper manner. 

  
Briskly, he strips the loosely clinging sweatpants off your hips and then rises back up to pull the flannel off your body. Stubbornly, you stand perfectly still, hoping to make him feel embarrassed or uncomfortable under your scrutinizing gaze. However, he’s definitely seen _and_ been with you while you’ve been nude before, so your nakedness now at his own hands don’t seem to weigh as heavy on him as you thought it would. Seems like he's so determined to get you under the jet of hot water that he's forgotten his overly chivalrous, polite tendencies. 

”You get in shower, you feel better,” Piotr attempts to convince you, setting your bunched up flannel on the edge of the counter. 

You step out of the sweatpants bunched at your ankles and he watches closely as you glance over at porcelain. The steam coming from the hot stream of water did seem pretty appealing...You glance up at him through weary, tired eyes. In the moment, all you want to do is throw up or sleep or both. Maybe the first judging by the sudden weakness in your legs. Oh yeah. Definitely the first. Yikes.

A bit uncouthly, you lurch forwards, attempting to shoulder him to the side to get to the toilet. Your legs fail you and he's forced into an awkward position to catch you. Piotr connected the dots quickly and adjusts his stance and hold around you so you can aim better, letting you fall slowly to your knees. Shaking, you rest your arms on the rim to steady yourself better. 

He's murmuring something to you in Russian but between the unpredictable heave of your stomach and the pounding in your head it is hard to make out anything other than an occasional pet name or reassurance. He pulls back your hair in one hand, the other rubbing slow, comforting circles into your back. You sigh into the bowl. It's in his nature to care. He cares about you. Once it feels somewhat over your lift your head and weakly wipe your chin and lips over your arm. 

Although Piotr speaks softly, you can still hear him well over the shower stream. " _Nu davay zhe_..." 

When you don't move, he gentle puts an arm around you, pulling you back up slowly to your face. Your eyes fall half shut as he practically carries you into the shower with him. 

He's right. 

It does feel better.

Like it's washing all the hurt and the ache and the grossness from you. 

For a long time, the two of you stand there and you don't move. Slowly, your head tilts so you can look up at him. And then, gently, you lean forward and your head rests on his chest. And you cry. Your eyes screw up and your eyebrows knot together and your lips quiver as you finally cry. Tentatively, so as not to smother you or overwhelm you anymore than you already were, Piotr reached to smooth his hand over your back soothingly. You allow him to bring you closer and for a moment you're lost in the feeling of him.

You stay under the hot stream of water with him for what feels like forever. You didn't want to leave. You didn't want this to end.

Your headache was starting to go away just a little bit. 

"Better?" he asks, his voice echoing as you continue to lean up against his chest.

Slowly, you nodded and yawned. You don't have the energy to take part in your usual shower routine and you're not in the mood to work around Piotr in order to reach the shampoo and conditioner and body wash. He seems to understand. Just getting you in the shower in general was enough of a small victory for him. After awhile, he turns off the shower and steps out, wrapping a towel around his waist and beckoning you out. Exhaustion makes you weak in the knees still.

He wraps a towel around you. It feels good to be taken care of. 

Although you're somewhat steady on your feet, his hand remains firm on your back. He's ready to catch you if you stumble or fall, you realize. His overprotectiveness got annoying sometimes but...not tonight. Not right now when you needed it the most. 

Piotr sits on the bed, upright against the headboard. When you go to sit at his side, a disapproving noise leaves his throat. Gently, he pulls you onto his lap and rests his chin on top of your head. One of his muscular arms wraps snugly around you as he pulls up a blanket and levels it with your shoulders. A peaceful sigh left your lips as your cheek rests comfortably against his chest.

"I'm sorry, Piotr," you eventually breathe out, the guilt of your pettier actions finally catching up to your conscience. It's unfair that he has endless patience and you had lashed out at him knowing that. 

His hand lifts to cradle your face. "There is no need for apologies."

"But I gave you so much grief for-"

" _Uspokoy moyu lyubov'_..." he murmurs to you, his voice soft in your ear. "It is the past. There is never grief in loving you." 


End file.
